


Heat

by startyourbenjens



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startyourbenjens/pseuds/startyourbenjens
Summary: There's a mechanical failure in the bunker. It's not life-threatening yet but they have to work fast to get it fixed. Meanwhile the temperature starts to rise and new discoveries are made. AKA someone on Slack mentioned a plot like this a long time ago that forces Marcus to walk around shirtless and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Shameless PWP.Chapter 1: A little plot.Chapter 2: A little plot, a little porn.Chapter 3: Less plot, more porn.





	1. Heat

 

 

Every inch of her feels warm. There's a fine sheen coating her skin, dewy drops falling down her neck, beading at her pulse and along the curve of her spine. The short honey and amber hairs at the back of her neck cling uncomfortably to her. A soft groan escapes as she swipes her hand across the low cut of her blouse and she feels her heartbeat beneath her palms.

 

Not even the ponytail sitting high on her head can help her escape the heat completely.

 

It's so damn _hot_.

 

It's not as bad in the Medical Bay as it is in other parts of the Bunker but it's enough to make her fan herself with an empty clipboard in between patients, tugging at the collar of her shirt to air out the sticky skin beneath. There wasn't much that could be done but they were able to get some working fans moving in the air vents, circulating the tepid air and creating a breeze that was better than anyone could ask for in that moment. When word first spread that there might be one room cooler than the others, Abby and Jackson and Niylah found themselves inundated with an outbreak of inexplicable aches or nausea that had no traceable source or treatable symptoms. After the first hour, it took four patients and three threats for vaccination shots for the rest of the bunker inhabitants to miraculously be healed. 

 

“You would think with everyone working on the ventilation system that it wouldn't take them so long to fix it.” Jackson has the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up as far as they'll go, the material stretching and bending as he pushes them up again. He tries to clean the moisture from his brow but only succeeds in smearing it onto the back of his arm.

 

“If we had a fully trained team of engineers then it might not take so long. More than half of those people are still learning how to operate our basic machinery, let alone the entire ventilation system.” Much to Abby's chagrin, the bulk of their engineering expertise fell to Thelonius and then from him it was the responsibility to teach the rest.

 

Even Marcus had joined the ranks of those volunteering to assist the short-staffed department, citing his basic mechanical familiarity as reason enough for him to temporarily suspend his other responsibilities if it meant getting their air fixed faster. And he was right, he does possess some mechanical skill to be of value to the repair team but more than that, he was the perfect middle man between Thelonius and the grounders who had also volunteered to help get their air working.

 

Thelonius gave instruction while Marcus translated. It wasn't a perfect system but it worked well enough.

 

Just not _fast_.

 

Every day more and more people could be seen leaning against the cool concrete walls and every day they were wearing less and less. People from all twelve clans were discarding the layers upon layers they typically wore. They were cutting off whole pieces of their clothes to accommodate for the increasingly high temperatures. It didn't matter how Abby or Marcus tried to dissuade them from it, promising that the air would be fixed soon and then they would want their sleeves and pant legs back. In that moment, the idea of wearing anything more than necessary was simply unbearable. Abby could understand their feelings. Her own leather jacket had spent the last two days hanging on the back of the chair in her office. There were even a few occasions that she had taken to absconding her typical long sleeve blouse in favor of only the softer black tank top underneath.

 

After all, she wouldn't consider herself a prude on the matter of the human body. It was hard to be nervous about nudity on the Ark where communal showers were common depending on your department or which station you lived on. Furthermore as a medical professional, Abby had an easier time than most understanding without pause the natural state of the human body. Marcus had acclimated surprisingly well to passing through the crowded halls and seeing most of their people half naked or worse. When she had questioned him about his casual attitude, he merely shrugged as though it was the first time he truly noticed that the situation might be something other than normal.

 

“Most of the guards shared the same barracks.” He had commented into her shoulder. His long fingers played with the strap on her top, slowly teasing it down while she pretended to be preoccupied. “Same rooms, same showers. I guess I've trained myself not to notice it.” Abby had smiled and made her own tease about what he _did_ notice seconds before Marcus dove in with muffled laughter to nuzzle soft kisses into the long lines of her exposed neck.

 

“The good news,” Niylah joins them with a metal tray of cleaned surgical instruments. When she sets it down her fingerprints linger like a stain on the colder surface. “Is that this is an opportunity for training. For _ogeda_.”

 

Niylah quickly became an invaluable resource among their small but growing medical crew. Much like Marcus, she was a helpful middleman to have while Abby and Jackson continued to practice their trigedasleng. She was patient and calm when acting as a translator but firm when it was clear their patient was being difficult simply because of any remaining mistrust of Skaikru. Right now, Niylah has her own long braid pinned high on her head as well. She flashes a smile to Abby. “ From what I hear, your husband is very popular to work with.”

 

Abby and Marcus weren't married unless it was by any kind of lingering common-law standards to have sustained the test of time and shifting cultures. Niylah knew that fact but insisted on referring to Marcus as her husband anyway.

 

“She's playing with you,” Jackson explained one late evening after Niylah had slipped out to make a house call on one of their bed-bound patients. “She knows the difference but your face turns red every time you try to explain it.”

 

Abby stopped trying after that, continuing through the conversation without missing a beat.

 

“That's not surprising.” She clicks.

 

“Yeah, not now.” Jackson braces his palms on one of the cots. “Two years ago and he would be the last person chosen to be an ambassador.”

 

Abby smiles at his comment. Working with Abby and Jackson, Niylah has been privy to more than most when it comes to skaikru and their history on the Ark, personal and as a society. She knows some of the things they did to survive. Niylah took each story in stride, tilting her head in approval when they talked of their victories and tucking her chin solemnly with their falls.  But Marcus--Marcus is a victory. It's true. Earth had changed Marcus Kane and Abby couldn't be more proud of the man he is today, the man he fought to become. Who knew that all this time he was holding back on this innate talent to bring these clans together? To act as an intermediary when others could not?

 

“It's not only that.” Niylah continues. “The clans respect those who are willing to work side by side with us, those who are willing to put their hands upon the labor to complete a task. It's a sign of good leadership and,” Niylah pauses, head tilting as she searches for the word. Her mouth quirks in a sly smile. “ . . . _skill_.”

 

Abby's not sure 'skill' is the word Niylah was searching for but she doesn't correct her on it.

 

Nor does she bring it up to Marcus that evening when they're sitting in the Mess Hall sharing hot vegetable stew together. Indra and Octavia and an ambassador from Trishankru also sit with them. Marcus eats his soup eagerly, totally void of the complaints she overhears from others. **_HOT soup?_** , she heard one exclaim as she waited in line like the rest. She sympathized to an extent with their outrage but knew that such complaints would be useless. The vegetables were easy enough to cultivate in their hydroponics bay and the ability to pair it with bread made it a key meal. It was filling enough to feed twelve-hundred people and still hold some nutritional value. Meaning that their diets were mostly planned out for the next five years regardless of machinery malfunctions. Until they were able to successfully cultivate any synthetic proteins capable of being produced on such a large scale, soup was on the menu.

 

“Don't make yourself sick,” she watches him put down the empty bowl, licking the taste from his lips. There's a soldier's efficiency to it, the way he keeps his head down and posture stiff as though he's running out of time to get it all in. She traces her fingers up and down his spine. Marcus lets out a long, low breath and closes his eyes at the comforting sensation.

 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, sheepish shoulders rising and falling. “I must have sweat out everything I've eaten in the past week working down there.” His head hangs forward, wet hairs falling around his face except for her favorite unruly strands that have forgone their typical duck-tail outward in favor of sticking to the back of his neck. 

 

Three grounders pass by their table on their path out of the Mess Hall. Abby barely catches one of them point first at Marcus then at her before all three continue past them, chuckling softly but not caring to really hide it. One of them, tall and lean with auburn hair slicked back and a tattoo of sprawling black branches across his uncovered shoulder, smirks at her and winks.

 

A different kind of heat flushes to her cheeks. A shapely brow raised, watching the group as they depart. Abby's too confused by the whole situation to be outraged. Her gaze searches out Niylah three tables down, watching them with that same knowing smile she wore earlier. She's about to turn to Marcus to ask him if he's noticed any strange behavior when a new figure steps into her view.

 

“Abby. Kane.” Thelonius' voice carries down to them. He doesn't sit at their table or make himself comfortable which is a relief to Abby as she assumes that he won't be taking up much more of their time. Marcus may have come to amicable peace with Thelonius about his actions, both locking him out, stealing the bunker, and then trying to mass-slaughter eleven-hundred grounders but Abby wants to hold on to her anger a little bit longer. She was almost widowed twice-over thanks to him.

 

_Not that she and Marcus are married._

 

“Thelonius,” Marcus picks his head up, gesturing to the empty seat. Jaha shakes his head. It doesn't escape her notice how he's failed to acknowledge the others at the table. Indra regards him quietly, her austere gaze unwavering from behind her cup.

 

“I wanted to let you know that the repairs are progressing better than expected. It shouldn't be more than a few days at most before we have all the systems up running at normal capacity. You can go back to your duties on the council tomorrow.”

 

It's been so long since Abby has heard Thelonius give any kind of status report that she can't decipher if this is normal from him or if he has rambled through it all, forcing the words out as quickly as possible. To her right, Marcus is frowning, wondering the same.

 

“Are you sure? There's still a lot to be done and many of the others are really starting to grasp the whole concept of the machines and how they interact. It might be detrimental to them if there's no one able to translate.”

 

Thelonius shakes his head. “It's not that much and it's nothing that can't be managed. Besides, eventually you'll have to go back to the council and my _proteges_ and I will have to learn to work together without you. Why not start now?”

 

Abby can think of a dozen reasons why they shouldn't start now.

 

“Because it's hot as _fuck_ in here.” Octavia scowls at him.

 

Marcus snaps his attention toward her, stern gaze leveled at her furrowed brow. It was a hard few weeks of adjustment for him to remember that he can't publicly chastise her as he used to, not without certain detriment to her visage as their leader. Now they communicate in looks, usually scolding, between each other. Still, she does have a point. It _is_  uncomfortably hot in there. 

 

“Because it's dangerous.” Abby interjects, breaking them both from their spell. “We're already starting to treat cases of heat exhaustion and dehydration. We need to get a handle on this as soon as possible.”

 

“Maybe the reason it is progressing so well is because Kane is there to assist.”

 

Indra has remained silent until now. Her glares cuts at Thelonius, the fingerless leather gloves firmly gripping the plastic cup in her hand. Indra has slimmed down her attire as well but despite lacking the usual armor and layers of fabric and leather, she's still easily one of the most intimidating figures out of their entire group. The muscled sinews of her arm stand out with tension as she stares him down. If anything, the beads of sweat only accentuate the firm strength she continues to carry. “It would be ill-advised to experience a set-back. You may not have suffered it in space, _skaikru_ , but the heat makes old tensions worse. ”

 

Thelonius turns his attention to the other woman for the first time since approaching their table, each watching each other for a long, strained minute. Thelonius breaks first and Abby expected no differently.

 

“Fine. I was only trying to be helpful.” He looks back to Marcus with a tense swallow and a forced nod. “See you in the morning.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I promise, this fic will do a better job living up to it's E rating in the next two chapters.


	2. Vice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: A little plot, a little porn (not necessarily in that order)

 

  
Abby peels herself off Marcus the next morning having pushed the strange conversation into the back of her mind.

 

It's too hot for them to sleep comfortably cuddled together as has been their habit but not even the oppressive heat could stifle Marcus' reaction to waking up next to a mostly naked Abby. The only thing separating them is his own threadbare shirt that she wears to sleep because it’s thin and light and smells like him. It stops high on her thighs, just present enough for Marcus to follow the frayed hem with his fingertips along slender rise and fall of her leg down to the curve of her ass. Abby stirs softly at the touch. Her body adjusted long ago to the sensation of his fingertips, the large palms and the long fingers that always seem to be reaching toward her. Her back curves, arching instinctively in an invitation for more though her eyes remain heavy with sleep. Marcus lays worshiping kisses from her earlobe to her collar and she thinks somewhere between her jaw and her clavicle there’s a quiet  ‘ _good morning_ ’  whispered. With each little peck or lingering press she can feel the gust of his breath, can hear the soft shudders of _want_ that escape him.

 

Abby can’t be sure if it’s Marcus who gently lays himself between the spread of her thighs or if she invites him into them when she raises her arms so that he can tug the offending garment off above her head. The sheets are soft and cool and Marcus is firm and warm and it all begins to coalesce upon her skin into a pleasant lure back into reality. The slow dreamy shift to consciousness becomes a beautiful, vivid morning when his lips close around the sensitive peak of her breast. She’s completely awake at the hard tug of his teeth around her nipple, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin and making her hips squirm against him for more. Abby stretches, cat-like and leisurely, pushing more of herself into his mouth. Marcus opens eagerly to accept her, humming around her breast while calloused fingertips attend to the other.

 

He licks and kisses and nibbles soft drags of his teeth onto the jut of her ribcage and down to the dip of her navel. Marcus is a creature of habit but he follows a new trail every time he moves over her like this, eager to taste, eager to please. Each one followed only by an urgent need to place the next, to commit himself to this unattended expanse. It makes the humidity sticking to her neck a worthy sacrifice when, with trembling resolve and aching arousal, Marcus devotes himself to her core. Abby keens and cries out with Marcus settled between her thighs. Everything is sensitive and the slick tease of his sweat-dampened hair has her quivering under the palms that keep her splayed and open to his ravenous attentions. He’s everywhere all at once, tongue flicking teases against her entrance or the coarse drag of his beard ghosting lightly in all the places but where she really needs him.

 

The moan that tears itself from his chest is long and filthy and _impossibly loud_ in their quiet little room. Adoration falls from his lips like a prayer, odes of her name and ‘ _good_ ’ and the hum of a parched man brought to drink echo into her chest. Marcus is slow and thorough and it’s wholly for his own selfish indulgence because she’s never met a man so goddamn desperate to spend his life between her legs. Jake was generously attentive and there was something deliciously hot in the way his large, powerful body could move over her but _this_ is a talent wholly unique to Marcus. Faster than she can breathe the tremors to start to curl in her toes until they shake through every bone in her body. He doesn’t stop as it rushes through, doesn’t slow down or let her choke the air into her lungs but wraps his arms beneath her thighs to take her aching swollen clit between his lips. She can feel the bastard smirk devilishly with his nose buried into her soft curls.

 

With desperate hands she tries to bring him back to her lips but Marcus shakes his shaggy head and a heartbeat later he's back, laving open mouthed kisses against her cunt and driving her insane with long licks by the flat of his tongue. He's chasing her higher and higher and Abby is still trembling from the first orgasm that’s not yet begun to leave her bones. She comes again with her legs shaking beneath his fingertips and the heels of her feet pressing into his back. She's utterly soaked when she finally drags him up with scoring nails to her lips, lightheaded and panting from the heat and from _him_.

 

She comes a third time with him inside her. Her body is still tense, every muscle strained and high as he crawls a wet, halting path up her body again. She jolts in pleasant surprise at the first brush of his cock against her, thick and achingly hard. For Marcus, the sweltering warmth of the bunker is _nothing_ compared to the tight heat that surrounds him at that first slow push home. _God, Abby_ , hisses in the inferno that arcs down his spine to the base of his cock. He loves the way her eyes close and she tips her head back, exposing the fluttering pulse he loves to taste beneath the swipe of his tongue. Does she know about the soft cry of satisfaction that escapes each time? Maybe it's the burning temperatures that turn his control to ashes or the two previous orgasms but they move together smoothly, slick skin sliding together, Marcus buried deep with every hard fall of his hips. It's a lot to take in this early in the morning, the sheer happiness and the pulsing orgasms and the overwhelming way that he wants her. She begs for him to let go and he swears not without her. Abby clutches him against her breast when finally he sputters a long, low moan into her skin.

 

 _“I love you.”_ Marcus kisses her and it might be the first real kiss they’ve shared that morning. He says it without tease or laughter. Just love. That simple awestruck feeling he wakes with every morning at the sight of her sleep-tangled locks and lethargic half-smile. Abby lazily runs her fingers through the mess of his hair, pushing that damn wayward curl she begrudgingly likes so much out of his face while she whispers ‘ _I love you too_ ’ against his lips.

 

It takes them ten minutes of laying next to each other, feeling the oxygen finally burn it’s way back into their lungs and the fever of their skin barely starting to cool before either of them can think of the necessity to move. The reminder that they aren’t teenagers anymore is a dull, worthwhile ache that makes both of them wish for just a little bit longer before they have to finally face their responsibilities.

 

Abby swats his hands away when they finally stand together beneath the lukewarm shower spray, laughing and swearing at him for making her late to her shift. _Again_. The clock on the wall ticks in the distance, reminding them that their world is waiting for them to open their door. Not every morning is like this. Sometimes the reality and the sadness are too much to do little more than curl in together but it’s that much easier with Marcus who is learning to be her pillar of hope when her own foundation feels weak.

 

Thelonius' conversation doesn't come back to her until the same tall young man from yesterday with the auburn hair and the twisting tattoo is writhing in her Medical Bay, nursing a blistering forearm and choked gasps for air.

 

Radiation burns. She remembers it vividly. Sometimes the nightmares and the fire are too tangible in her dreams and she wakes up panting, grasping at her skin to ensure it's all there. Today it takes all three of them working together on his arm to get it back to a manageable state where the skin stops burning and he stops screaming. An entire tube of medicated ointment, an anesthetic to get him to sleep, and fifteen minutes of angry searching for Abby to reach the hub deep into the far engineering rooms where Marcus and Thelonius are working. Or, as it seems, not working.

 

Thelonius is in one corner of the room, working at an open electrical box while Marcus speaks in trigedasleng to an angry group of grounders who keep gesturing wildly back at Thelonius. Abby's eyes only begin to dart to the skaikru engineering recruits huddled at a different side, some leaning, all watching, when something clicks in her brain. Her attention snaps back on Marcus. Sweat is pouring down from his neck to the lines of his spine. The strong lines of his neck and the broad spread of his shoulders flex as he gestures between them, the words coming out in angry, fluent falls.

 

Half naked, _shirtless Marcus_ , she realizes whose hard form and firm planes stand on display for all of them.

 

Then another second and she realizes that _all of them_ are down to their skins or tank tops or bras. Even Thelonius has stripped to a worn navy tank that hangs loosely as he gingerly moves the wires about, wincing when a crack of electricity sparks at him.

 

She's trying to decide who to go to first when Marcus catches her attention, pausing the back and forth among the grounders to approach her.

 

“How is he?” His arms fold in front his chest, the taut sinews of his shoulders and well-toned muscles trailing down catching in the light as they move. Abby returns the gesture, more to keep herself grounded and free from the distraction of Marcus standing so unashamedly bare in front of her and at least a half dozen others too. God, hadn't he just driven her to three really good orgasms mere hours ago?

 

“We might have saved his arm but don't expect him down here any time soon. What happened?”

 

“It's complicated.” Marcus huffs which Abby knows is Marcus-speak for a story he would rather not divulge for the sake of keeping peace among them all. She arches a shapely brow at him, unyielding in her firm stare until with a soft but succumbing scoff he starts talking again. “I was trying to get instructions from Thelonius. We've reached the source issue but it's dangerous because--”

 

“Because it deals with the ventilation that circulates and purifies the irradiated air outside the bunker.” She had gathered that well enough from the radiation burns she just treated.

 

“Yes.” He confirms. “I was trying to get more information from him which led to some confusion about when to start. Mishal misheard us and took off trying to get started on his own. Now Thelonius is working alone and I'm trying to stop the rest of them from slicing him into a thousand pieces. _Nevermind_ what might happen when the rest of the people find out.”

 

As though on cue, the noises behind them start to escalate once more. This time the grounders are staring at the skaikru who push themselves away from the wall, ready to go to blows despite not knowing anything of what was said. Whatever happened, it's clear to Abby that the grounders blame Thelonius completely and Marcus not-at-all. She wishes that surprised her more. Marcus turns back to the grounders and the skaikru, leaving her standing alone while he speaks several sentences rapidly in trigedasleng.

 

That's when she notices it.

 

Long lines of red and pink run from his shoulder blades and down his spine. Each of them in sets of three or four. The most vivid are closer to his neck and his shoulders, the deepest sitting barely beneath his arms. Some of them are starting to fade and only visible when he turns himself closer toward the light while others stare at her, vibrant and red and knowing. _Ah_.

 

There are blossoms of reddish purple adorning his collar, one right beneath the bone and another where his adam's apple dips down to the hollow of his throat. When he twists his torso to gesture toward Thelonius, she spots a similar mark a few inches above his waistband.

 

It all clicks into place.

 

The chuckling grounder glances, Niylah's remark about _skill_ , and even Indra's comment about old tensions-- all pieces of a puzzle finally reaching its completion.

 

Marcus, toiling side by side with the rest of this crew, their shirts in a pile against the far wall and him covered in the scratched remnants of her nails dragging down his back, is a very public litany to their very active sex life.

 

It also explains Thelonius' sour demeanor, she wrinkles her nose in distaste, not that it's any excuse for his behavior or putting the safety of others at risk.

 

If it were anyone else, they might be embarrassed to suddenly realize that there are rumors—no, _more than rumors_ because Marcus has provided them with undeniably concrete evidence sprawled across his skin—spreading around their people about your intimate business that happens in the privacy of their own quarters. Abby merely huffs a short, unconcerned laugh, burying her face in her palm, weary exasperation falling on her shoulders with a tired chuckle.

 

If their people only knew the half dozen or more times they were almost explicitly caught in her office they might not think so much about what is only implications carved into Marcus' skin. Or if they knew how Marcus likes to read in the commander's office when he’s feeling overwhelmed and stressed and how Abby likes to distract him with her hands on his knees and her mouth on his cock. Or late at night in the empty closet at the end of Hall H outside the weapon's supply room where patrols pass every thirty minutes and sometimes it’s all they can do to muffle their panting expletives into each other. This is _nothing_ compared to the reality of how Marcus responds so viscerally to the sight of Abby in her gifted leather jacket that hugs her in all the places he loves—which is to say, _everywhere_.

 

Except that it is apparently causing a disturbance great enough that someone has been injured.

 

Abby rounds on Thelonius, taking purposeful strides until she's invading his space. She forces him away from the electrical wiring to finally face her.

 

“Abby,” he begins in those same slow, condescending tones that tell her he’s forgotten that he hasn’t been the chancellor for well over a year, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “I need to get this--”

 

“No.” Abby cocks her head at him, voice loud and stern. There's a brief silence at the other end of the room and she knows they've turned their heads to watch their doctor take on their former chancellor. “You need to listen to me. I don't care what your problem is, you need to deal with it on your own. There are twelve hundred people in this bunker depending on us to act like capable adults, to show them how factions can come together to serve a greater purpose. And right now, the only person in this bunker who is not expecting redemption from you is _Marcus_. All he asks is that you to work with him to get this fixed before people start dying and that will happen if you can't get it together. Now you can be useful or you can get out of the way and let someone else take over. We've managed it before.”

 

It's been a long time since she's had to go off on anyone like that. If she thinks about it, Marcus might be the last person she's had to land such a devastating verbal blow on. But she's lost none of her skill and can see how each word strikes exactly where she meant it to on Thelonius. His head tilts back, recoiling in stunned silence as her fury washes over him.

 

“Tell me this won't be happening again.” She demands.

 

Slowly, Thelonius nods. “It won't.”

 

Abby nods a curt ' _good_ ' at him, directing herself back to Marcus and his simmering group of grounders. There's an edge of determination on their faces but she can tell by the way they watch from Thelonius to her that they're placated enough by the scolding she delivered.

 

“That was impressive.” Marcus is back in her vision again. Half-naked, warm Marcus giving her the faintest hint of that stupid, distracting, lopsided smile.

 

_If only he knew._

 

“Do you think you can get the air fixed now?” She says archly, looking at the group behind him. They start nodding in agreement.

 

Her gaze finds Marcus, the tension dissipating already. The grounders going to pick up their tools from where they fell. Each of them avoids Thelonius who continues to work silently at his electrical box. Abby watches them move and hesitates on whether or not to tell Marcus about her new revelation.

 

“What is it?” Marcus moves toward her, hands falling on her arms in that familiar way he has of drawing her in even when he shouldn't. The temperature of the room seems to increase with his proximity. She's acutely aware of his state of undress, the way his dark trousers hang criminally low on his hips, dancing on the border of being obscene. Outwardly there's a softness around his middle that belies the strength Abby knows waits within, the hidden power of Commander Kane that's never quite left him.

 

She knows he's strong enough to bend his knees into the mattress and flip her underneath, hardly missing a beat as they writhe together. She knows that if she starts teasing him in the morning with her nails scratching along the bulge of his jeans then by the evening he'll have her wrists pinned beneath his hands while her legs wrap around his middle. Then there's the trail of short coarse hairs disappearing beneath his belt. Abby licks her lips, her fingertips itching to run through the familiar path.

 

It's like the first time and every time she sees him naked. There's a moment of shock and appreciation and intense want blossoming in her chest because Marcus is damnably attractive and doesn't even realize it.

 

 _Damn it all. Let them laugh_. Abby shakes her head and instead of leaving right away, she snakes a hand at his hip to draw herself closer. She leans up on the tips of her toes and with her free hand she cradles his face to pull him down for a long, gentle kiss. His lips are soft and warm and they move immediately with her own. The tip of his tongue darts out to taste her which sparks a fire low that arcs through her most sensitive places, teasing in the nervous swallow to her breasts and her core. She can feel the powerful way her body reacts to him, yearning for more from only the slightest touch.

 

It's entirely too short for her liking but Marcus still hums his approval against her lips. When she pulls away, her nails trail off from his side to right above the metal belt buckle.

 

Marcus shivers visibly beneath her touch, dark eyes smoldering when he opens them.

 

“Get back to work. I need that air fixed.”

 

She makes it look far easier than it really is to turn around and walk away from him. She would love to drag Marcus away under whatever pretense she can come up with on the spot-- usually a few good medical terms mixed in with the word 'contagious' works wonders to lure him from his current task to have her wicked way with him. Today it might be a little too obvious even for her preferences.

 

Her ponytail bobs when she turns on her heels and her hands stay at her side, brimming with tension. Every step feels sharp and acute, every nerve on fire. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, reminding herself and the ache between her legs that he just gave her three fantastic orgasms not six hours ago.

 

“Abby!”

 

_Oh no._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hopeful) Trademarks of my fics:  
> 1) Multiple orgasms for Abby Griffin  
> 2) Marcus Kane as captain of team “multiple orgasms for Abby Griffin.” 
> 
> Anyway! Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for all those who left comments & kudos & various encouragements <3


	3. Visceral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1) not really any plot relevance. mostly porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me to me, trying to finish this: OH MY GOD WHAT IF YOU DON’T FINISH THIS FIC BEFORE ‘THE DARK YEAR’ AIRS AND THEN IT TURNS OUT THEY DID HAVE SOME KIND OF MALFUNCTION THAT MADE EVERYONE MOSTLY NAKED AND THE WHOLE PLOT IS RUINED? 
> 
> The hardest part about finishing this is trying to ignore everything that I know in canon now. So we’re just gonna….look the other way all that we know to be true except for the absolute undeniably canon fact that Marcus and Abby have been in a loving relationship for six years that includes a lot of really good sex. 
> 
> Congratulations to Thelonius Jaha, who lives to see another chapter.

 ---------------

 

She turns on her heels at his voice calling to her from the direction of the engineering hub. The sight of Marcus jogging toward her, twisting the threadbare grey shirt over his head as he moves, tugs hard at her middle. Inches of warm, tan skin disappearing, drawing a frown across her lips; the word ' _criminal_ ' comes to mind at the same time that another wave of heat burns into her chest.  
  


He stops in front of her, his breath coming in short pants that sound far too similar to that morning. “Is everything alright?”  
  


“Of course.” The answer falls too fast, too forced. It’s fake even to her ears. Abby crosses her arms to speak to him, that same bracing behavior to bely the heady urge to rub her thighs together to gain some momentary relief. It’s difficult to look at him with all of this new information she holds; the marks, the laughter, the _looks_. Marcus doesn’t know any of it. He walked around for days broadcasting every incoherent moan and arching spiral of pleasure written across his skin. He penned the notes himself by the swipe of his tongue and the flick of his fingers and the goddamn idiot had no idea at all. Carefully, wary of what looking at him for too long might do to an already tenuous sense of restraint, Abby finally allows herself to truly look at him again. “After you’re done here, you need to come by medical so that I can take a look at your back.”  
  


“My back?” Confusion etches deeper into the long planes of his face, creasing around his eyes and the tense bob of his Adam’s apple that’s dripping with sweat soaking into his shirt. His head tilts and his posture straightens. He tries to feel without actually looking at what she might be talking about.

 

_Idiot._

 

“Yes, your back. There are breaks in the skin that need to be properly cleaned if you’re going to be working in potential radiation zones.”  
  


“What breaks in the skin?” He attempts to reach behind his neck, hand dipping behind the collar to brush along the skin beneath his shoulders. Abby’s attention is tested by how the movement lifts the hem of his shirt, teasing the sliver of skin that flutters when she skims her nails across it. God, no, focus. Her lips form a thin line, determination setting hard in her jaw if only the rest of her could do the same.  
  


Her attention snaps back to him; the brief lapse in severity is thankfully unnoticed. “Some possibly as recent as this morning which is why you need to get them checked. You’re in a high risk environment and that, combined with today’s radiation leak, we need to be certain there’s no other damage that’s been done.”  
  


“This morning? What--”  
  


“ _Marcus._ ” A shiver runs down her spine at her own low exclamation of his name. A hard, desperate stare leveled at him, begging relief from his arguments. Impatience and desire fray her tolerance. Marcus has a job to do and she has her own tasks to attend again. The more she stands here with him, the harder it is to resist the temptation of a few whimpered words hushed into the column of his neck. Half a heartbeat and he could be hauling her into the nearest vacant room right now.  
  


She watches it come upon him. It wasn’t her intention to tell him but between the sweat beading on her skin and the unslaked want between her thighs, it didn’t occur to her that he might actually reach the same conclusion that she did when it was staring her in the face, begging her attention.  
  


His eyes go wide and his shoulders fall. It moves through every part of him. It crosses his arms over his chest and then uncrosses them, drags his fingers through the bristles of his beard before resting his hands on his belt. “Oh.” He nods, the words drawing out slowly. Marcus finally meets her stare, awareness burning between them. “ There are…marks on my back?”  
  


She sighs. “Yes, Marcus.”  
  


Her body sags as the annoyed frustration begins to abate, leaving place for only the exhaustion of the hot, stale air and Marcus standing before her. He’s watching her with a new insight. She can feel his dark brown eyes as they roam over her, looking for the same kind of ‘marks’ on her.  
  


He won’t find them though it’s not for lack of enthusiasm.  
  


Marcus leaves fading purple blemishes on the inside of her thighs and scattered around the expanse where his hands span perfectly across her hips. Blossoms of red rest beneath her tank top, always accompanied by the tender scratches from his jaw smearing itself across her sternum. Abby shivers at the memory, nerves alighting with aching tenderness beneath her black top. “Visible. Some possibly deep. We need to take a look at them to be safe.”  
  


Abby has known Marcus for decades. There’s no shortage of pleasant surprises as they continue to learn each other in these new landscapes: who they are together, who they are made stronger, who they are in weakness. She suspects that a year from now, a week from now, an hour from now she’ll still find new pieces of him to love even when he can’t love them himself. He’s better at saying it so plainly. Like Marcus in love has suddenly opened a door for someone so blatantly full of affection that it spills out in surprising waves. Like now. Like now when it’s not just affection that spurs him but something headier, darker and damnably appealing.  
  


The corner of his mouth quirks, the familiar half smile flickering into place while she rattles through her very clinical approach to their very personal problem.  
  


“From your professional opinion, Doctor Griffin, what do you think the cause of these marks would be?”  
  


Of all the reactions she expected from his about this information, this wasn’t among the scenarios considered. Shame and embarrassment were at the top of her list for probable responses. As much as Marcus desires her, as often and desperate and wholly consuming as his intense need to draw shuddering orgasm after orgasm from her, he’s still Marcus. He’s still spent a lifetime keeping to himself, regarding propriety as something akin to duty. The way his want-driven impulses surprise him as something he’s never considered to be a real part of himself. She can see it in the way he stares at her afterward each time. The disbelief, the stupid, ridiculous gratitude that bursts from his heart when the tension breaks and the white hot pleasure takes over them as though he can’t believe she could possibly want him as much as he wants her.

 

_Idiot._

 

So as much as Abby knows without any sense of doubt how much he enjoys every secret tryst or long night that endears itself into early morning, for Marcus to smirk when she’s telling him that everyone knows they _fuck_ and often and with an impossibly hungry intensity to drive them to desperate grasps for purchase on each other is as surprising as the marks themselves.  
  


She can’t decide if she wants to shove him away or against the concrete wall behind him. She settles for rolling her eyes, tongue clicking against her teeth to bite back the incredulous smirk he certainly doesn’t deserve after what he’s put her through.  
  


“Possible mauling.” Her boots click softly on the floor as she takes a measured step toward him. “Have you been agitating any wild animals lately?”  
  


Marcus makes no effort to hide his impish amusement. It’s a side rarely seen of him, this deeply buried playfulness but he brings it out just for her or as he’s told her, often times with his teeth nibbled against her neck, she brings it out from him. “I haven’t seen any around.”  
  


“Could be night terrors.” Abby shrugs. “Allergic reaction.”  
  


“That seems like an odd pattern for either, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  


God, she can't stand him.  
  


“Hm. Well, if we can’t figure out a cause, we might have to keep you in medical overnight for observation. I could schedule you for some blood tests. I’m sure Niylah could use the practice.”  
  


The first shadow of a frown dances across his face since he realized the truth of her erratic behavior. A dark, thick brow arches and for a moment, he’s genuinely concerned about her threat for medical testing. “That hardly seems fair to punish the patient.”  
  


“You’ll know when I’m punishing you, Marcus.”  
  


His breath catches in his throat. She sees the muscles tense across his neck and the broad spread of his shoulders that flex beneath the tight shirt. The Earth made him stronger. Heavier gravity and harder labor have reaped their benefits across every sinew in his body. His tongue flashes across his bottom lip and Abby can’t do anything but stare back at the way his eyes have smoldered to ashen black watching her.  
  


“I thought you swore an oath to do no harm.”  
  


She could kill him. She could kiss him. She might do both but her body can’t handle the uncertainty. It’s enough that she’s only holding onto herself, that any movement pulling too hard on her self-control might drag them both across that thinning line. If she uncrosses her arms they might find their way around his neck or back to the belt loops she traced mere minutes ago.  
  


“That only applies if you’re my patient. You haven’t checked yourself into medical. Right now you’re just someone standing in my way, stopping both of us from getting back to work.”  
  


Marcus can hold out for a long time but Abby can break him in seconds.  
  


“We've already been gone at least fifteen minutes, Abby.” His eyes darken and his jaw tightens. Abby can see all of it. How his body tenses and his movements transform from something fluid and light to a more tenuous, strained control. It’s good to know she’s not the only one suffering right now. God, why are they resisting again? The reasons are fading into distant memory and Marcus is so vivid before her.  
  


“They're probably already _suspecting_.” His words fall off into silence, swallowed up by the heat and the dryness in his throat with only the heady implication hanging between them.  
  


It’s so much for Marcus, the exhilarating, intoxicating notion that not only does Abby want him for reasons beyond his comprehension but that it’s a known desire now. It’s out there, too late to be taken away from him.  
  


She wants him and he wants her and each tumbling precipice she crosses is broken into his body like a story he’s never known before, her desire mapped out along his back that an entire crew has seen. They know that he can drive their composed doctor to such a state of trembling disarray that it’s all she can do to grasp him closer with every fiber of her being as pleasure rockets its way from the curl of her toes to the arch of her spine. It's more consuming than anything he's ever experienced before, the way he wants her all the time at the slightest provocation or none at all. And the unfathomable way that she wants him too. The tender way she touches him all damn day with soft fingertips that edge on the side of inappropriate until it's driving him crazy not to touch her too.  
  


The notion that there are a little more than fifteen people in the main engineering hub who suspect that he might be buried deep inside her _right now_.  
  


She doesn’t have to look to know that his cock is straining against the zipper of his canvas pants but she does anyway. Slow and deliberate, letting her eyes rake over the dark swell pressing forward and knowing how uncomfortable it must be for him to be trapped right now. The belt that’s loose around his waist and the grey shirt with the faded hem that still clings around the firmness of his shoulders. Everything is stretched tight with his arms across his chest. His body is so contained but Abby knows if he were to let go for a single second, she would find herself with her back against the wall and the hot drag of his cock yearning through their clothes for her.  
  


Abby doesn’t bend so easily.  
  


She steps forward and now they’re almost touching. She matches him stance for stance, arms crossed beneath the low cut of her blouse. Marcus falls for it easily, his attention dropping to the teased swell of her breasts. Abby feels it go straight to her thighs when he licks his lips without thought again. She wonders if he wants to run his tongue across the aching peaks as much as she wants him to at this moment.  
  


“Suspecting what?”  
  


 _Goddamn her_ , Marcus thinks. The facade of professionalism long gone between them, the teasing only edging closer to something more urgent, more desperate and dangerous. That sultry tone that shreds apart the remnants of his propriety ghosts across his skin from the centimeters that separate them.  
  


Abby can feel the pressure building but the notion of retreat has never been natural to her. She keeps going, keeps talking and watching him break down with every word. “Do they think you’re so irresistible, Marcus?”  
  


“No.” Each breath comes in labored pauses from him. The lone word taking long seconds to fall from the grit of his teeth. Every ounce of muscle and hard pack of firm flesh is tensed and shaking. Anticipation soaks her, seeing the absolute power in his body trembling from the temptation of her words. She’s losing patience with waiting for him to take these damn clothes off her and just take her. Here. Anywhere. Somewhere. Somewhere close and now. She’s staring at his lips when the last syllables fall in the sweltering silence around them. “ _You are._ ”  
  


She’s going to wrap her legs around his middle and let him stumble in the empty hall while Abby busies herself with sucking the fluttering pulse point between her teeth in exactly the way he likes. She’s going to run her hands under his shirt until she can feel him beneath her palms and ride herself along all those delicious hard panes until he’s ready to bury himself inside her so she can feel the deliciously hot sensation of being stretched and filled and fucked in the hungry way that only Marcus can give her.  
  


She’s braced for the impact of her back against the wall. She’s waiting for his mouth to descend upon hers with a hunger that burns from the throbbing ache in her cunt to the moan waiting to be swallowed by his lips. She’s ready for sensation and relief and her entire body to react to finally getting exactly what it wanted. This is it. This is exactly what she wanted. It doesn’t matter how many shattering orgasms she reached earlier because he was there and ready and they spent too long denying each other to waste another moment pretending this isn’t exactly what they want.  
  


The broad caress of his palms against the small of her back draw her forward. The sharp exhale that simmers between them as anticipation burns hotly. Another second he’ll be there. One more second and --  
  


Marcus moves with inspired urgency but sound carries faster. Another sound breaks the inferno over them with a wash of cold awareness that they are not, in fact, alone.  
  


“ **Marcus**.”  
  


It startles all of them at the same time.  
  


Abby gasps, annoyance and anticipation fused together in a swelter of sudden denial. Marcus stops like her touch is fire burning his hands.  
  


The syllables of his name trailing off as realization strikes Thelonius at the sight before him. The veil pulled away from them as the voice of another breaks their spell of false isolation.  
  


Silence stretches. Abby opens her eyes and Marcus still has his closed. His chest rises and falls in rapid successions while he tries to control it again. The dark lids flutter with every effort and she knows that despite the rational part of his brain, the diligence he holds toward all twelve hundred of their people, whatever is happening right now, Marcus is giving serious consideration to exactly how necessary he is to the repair crew at this moment.  
  


“Sorry to interrupt,” Thelonius continues. Abby suspects he might truly be regretting his decision to search them out. “We need a translation, Marcus, before we risk any more injuries for Doctor Griffin to tend.”  
  


Damn. Abby lets out a heavy breath at the same moment Marcus does, both of them relinquished to the fact that they are not about to lose themselves in each other again, only hours after they did this morning.  
  


“Duty calls.” Marcus paints a soft fluttering kiss against her lips. Abby nods, tugging on his shirt to lure it back into a semblance of decency. There's nothing to be done about his hair and how evident it is that she had her fingers knotted into the thick locks mere seconds ago. Abby finds she doesn't truly care either.  
  


“I expect a status update by the end of the day if that air isn't working.” She quips. Marcus smiles against her mouth.  
  


“I'll be sure to prepare a thorough briefing.”  
  


Thelonius exhales loudly and starts walking back to engineering. They laugh together before finally letting each other go to return to their responsibilities.

 

\-------

 

It’s absolute hell trying to concentrate the rest of the day but fortunately the heat and her patients come in demanding throngs to the MedBay doors. Hours pass before Abby can collapse at the closest desk, categorizing symptoms and treatments. It’s crucial now more than ever to search for early solutions and preventatives in case their circumstance with the air vents turns into something long-term.  
  


Marcus finds her like that, hunched over a tray of blood samples with her arm stretched back, trying to squeeze a knot of stress out of her neck.  
  


She’s so breathtaking that he pauses in the doorway, watching her work with a fond smile playing across his face.  
  


“I was told that I needed to see a doctor.”  
  


Abby looks up from the data pads piled in front of her at the welcome interruption of his voice. A soft smile greets him, tired but genuine. She can see that he’s showered before coming to see her and with a glance at the time stamp on her pad, she can see why. She should have left an hour ago. Maybe two. With the air filters still down, most of their people have taken to two showers a day minimum. There’s no rationing system for the water pumps like they had on the Ark. It’s all based on an honor system that each person will adhere to the understood rules of not over-extending their resources.  
  


Those who were working on repairing that system were given a little more leeway than the average inhabitant. A privilege that wouldn’t hold out the longer it took to get the cool, regulated air back into the home.  
  


He seems nervous walking into her office though he’s been there dozens of times by now. He glances around the empty MedBay, arms crossed loosely over his chest in echo of how she saw him a few hours ago.  
  


“If only all my patients were so easy.” Abby swipes a small bottle of herbal balm from the desk near her. She requested it from Niylah after she returned to MedBay from their moment in the hall. The balm is thin and soft and smells mysteriously like eucalyptus and mint. Niylah swore by it with a smirk lilting the corner of her mouth, promising that it would soothe the worst abrasions.  
  


Marcus follows her into her office after a cock of her head and a curl of her finger. “Take off your shirt.”  
  


“Here?” His attention darts to the open office door and back to her.  
  


“What, do you want to show more people? Your entire engineering team wasn’t enough?”  
  


Abby shuts the heavy door and Marcus complies slowly. The tired garment tossed carelessly onto a shelf nearest them. In the beginning, she would never have guess he was the type to fling clothes around his quarters. She imagined everything had to be pristine, even undressing. Maybe he was. Maybe he was pristine Marcus Kane on the Ark but Earth has taught him that roots will grow where the seeds fall and that’s just the natural order of things. She didn’t know this part of that Marcus. She knows this Marcus. Her Marcus.  
  


Her Marcus whose long days of hard labor have done him innumerable favors on the tone of his arms as he takes off his shirt. His forearms stretch out and uncurl with his palms flat on the surface of her desk. His shoulders flex effortlessly and Abby watches transfixed as ripples of movement run down his spine. He’ll never be a young man again with the litheness of youth but she doesn’t want him that way. She prefers him like this, tested through time and emerging stronger.  
  


“Or Thelonius.” Marcus glances at her over his shoulder, breaking her reverie.  
  


“Head down.” She instructs gently, two fingers dipping into the container of cool balm. Marcus turns his attention forward again, head dipping low and shaggy hair dropping little remnants of water on her desk. She starts at his shoulders where the freshest lines appear to be branching out from the curve of his spine. She traces them slowly, massaging the angry marks and feeling his body start to sag under her ministrations. There are firm planes from shoulder to shoulder that she works her fingers into, those hard packs molding lower to more malleable expanses where time and hope have changed him. “Are you _embarrassed_ about kissing me, Marcus?”  
  


“No, of course not.” His body reacts like a shock, trying to twist himself to look at her while she forces him back to the pliant weight beneath her hands. Marcus resigns, settling his palms back on the desk but shifting with every cool swipe, low breathy exhales falling between his words. “Abby, I would never—”  
  


“Exactly.” She cuts him off and watches the skin near his rounded oblique flutter after her attentions. “Of course not. We’re adults, Marcus.”  
  


“I know that.” Another soft, subdued whine in his voice. He’s crumbling beneath her palms and Abby can feel the cooling balm as it starts warming itself into his skin, drawing out the tension and the knots and toxins taking up space within him. “I’ve never…”  
  


“I know.” She stops him again, sparing him the effort of explaining a long life without the same kind of free affection she reveled in so deeply. Her hands are cleaned on a sterile cloth. They shift to rest on the belt loops at his sides, toying with the loose fit canvass pants.  
  


Marcus has never had public romances. Even his relationship with Callie was something deeply personal, and often ill-looked upon by their people as his tendencies to be brusque and brush her off made him less than a suitable match for her friend who was so well-loved among their people. Callie was bright and beaming and she smiled and laughed as often as possible. No one saw the Marcus Kane that Callie met with after work hours. Not even Abby, who can only paint the slightest picture of that man being the same as the one making contented breathy exhales in front of her.  
  


No iteration of Marcus Kane has ever known that love could be such a celebrated thing. He had no idea that it could exist beyond boundaries and appropriate confinements until there they were, desperately finding each other to make up for all the time he didn’t know.  
  


Abby leans forward and kisses the space on his spine just between his shoulder blades. There’s a light, warm sensation on her lips from the remains of the balm that has yet to dissolve into his skin. Marcus shivers at the soft, grazing affection.  
  


“Not everyone can be a natural at flouting proper decorum and public opinion, Marcus.”  
  


The vibration of his laugh rumbles through where she’s touching him, her nose breathing in the smell of their soap and his shampoo and that piece of him that always smells like a fire burning at midnight.  
  


“What you’re telling me,” he sinks lower, the pressure falling away from his bones, “is that you’re really good at this and I’m really bad at it.”  
  


His next self-deprecating laugh cuts off into a loud, sharp gasp when she tugs him back by his belt loops. Her voice is a purr against his back and her lips are warm and soft and lazy when they draw across him. “I hate to feed your ego but I think evidence shows to the contrary that you are really, really good at this, Marcus.”  
  


“That’s not—” He’s lost into a stammering argument now, caught off guard by the tender way she’s changed her touch and overwhelming sensation of cool against warm against _hot_.  
  


“I know.” She soothes again, nails scratching lightly above the waistband of his trousers. Marcus bends before he knows what he’s doing, arching unintentionally into the touch, silently asking her for more before his brain can stop himself.  
  


“As a Council Member.” There’s a rasp edging into his voice that wasn’t there before. He’s trying to behave despite every instinct in him telling him not to. “I feel obligated to maintain a higher level of decorum than I apparently have been.”  
  


“And personally?” Abby kisses the wing of his back, her hair brushing against him, tickling the sensitive nerves. Her hands slide up and down the smooth expanse only interrupted by the map of desire she built there with her hands, feeling the curve of his sides and the firm muscles beneath it all. His head falls forward, a soft groan escaping at the delicate touch. Her nails scratch lightly down his spine until they can tug playfully again at his belt loops, drawing him completely pressed to her.  
  


His voice is strained even through the attempt of a tease. “Personally, — _god, Abby_.” Marcus chokes. Deft fingers have wound their way around the canvas material to flick open the top button his pants, the sound of his zipper sliding down overpowering his heavy, uneven breathing. Marcus tries again, sputtering when she teases her nails along the swell of his cock over the fabric of his shorts. “I'm finding it very hard to be disappointed right now.”  
  


Marcus moans at the first run of her fingers that dip beneath the worn cotton material and draw him out. His whole body arcs when she circles the dripping head and drags that wetness down around him.  
  


Abby nips relentlessly these playing, teasing kisses along his back, the eucalyptus and mint tingling on her lips, mixing in the sweaty musk of his skin to fill her senses with him. She likes him like this, desperate and hard and aching for her touch. She likes it when he’s so overcome that she can bring him to the edge and over with just her hands. Marcus is devoted to her pleasure but sometimes what she wants more than anything is to make him fall apart and watch the blinding sensation as it takes him.  
  


“Jesus, Abby.” Marcus pants her name when she dips lower to cup his balls and squeezes them gently between her fingers. The languor that came over at her touch has smoldered a tight, brimming tension drawn out by each long, slow stroke along his cock.  
  


He’s so close already, blood already burning in his veins and singing in his ears. His erection may have waned earlier but his desire for her had not. He thought about that morning, about how she mewled and keened and he couldn’t help himself but to draw those sounds again. He thought about seeing her standing there, damnably defiant with her arms crossed and her breasts pushed forward. He thought about how badly he wanted to dip his head and close his lips around one of those peaks until she was screaming his name for more.  
  


Now he’s here, aching to bury himself into her grasp and trapped by the wordless command of her firm grasp twisting roughly up and down where she holds him. His length pulled high and flat against his the quiver of his stomach, easier for her to reach and impossible for him to resist. And he’s about to make a big goddamn mess all over himself and her desk if she doesn’t stop. A warning he tries to give her through the expels of her name, the breathy warnings that somehow won’t let the word ‘ _stop_ ’ reach his lips. Marcus is leaning back into her grasp that keeps running over him and Abby’s free hand is holding him close her. She can’t quite stroke all of him but god it’s more than enough.  
  


He can feel the pressure about to burst with the white heat burning over when she squeezes hungrily at the base of his cock. Marcus gasps, so close to the precipice, expletives falling after a needy, pained echo of “ _Abby_ ” spills forward--  
  


**“Abby?”  
**

It’s loud enough to break the spell for the second time that day. A voice on the other side of the door, calling out for their doctor. Maybe it’s his lack of professional knowledge or his profound need for her to keep touching him but something in him pleads that whatever it is, it can’t be urgent. Not as urgent as his need for her hand sliding along his length and her thumb pressing at the spot beneath the head where he starts to see stars under her tough. Can’t be so terribly important that--  
  


But it’s loud enough, demanding enough to stop her hand and Marcus to groan heavily in disappointment when the relief he was so close to reaching disappears so swiftly.  
  


“Is the door locked?” He’s pants, pained and straining because his cock hasn’t caught up to his brain.  
  


“Did you lock it?” Annoyance clips in her tone and indignance burns hotly within them both. The air, cloying and humid and still undeniably lacking in its chill, strikes him hard when her hand suddenly lets go, making him shiver and sag.  
  


“Fuck.” His head falls forward, regret and agonizing arousal groaning out at the realization that he is definitely not about to come. Marcus is granted merciful seconds to tuck himself away, a fact both disappointing and painful when the material constricts uncomfortably around him, before he nods to Abby that it’s safe to open the door to her office.  
  


Niylah stands feet from the door. Recognition, surprise, and devilish mirth play out plainly across her face in exactly that order.  
  


“ I was . . . “ Niylah glances at Marcus who is leaning against the front of her desk, his shirt, retrieved from the shelf, now knotted into his hands conspicuously hiding the tent of his trousers. Abby is beyond caring. Niylah’s already heard the rumors, already knows the gossip going around and finds it humorous enough to tease Abby without worrying about what how she’ll respond. Niylah draws her attention back to Abby. “I’m making rounds. MedBay is calm so I’m going to follow up with some of our bed-bound patients. I shouldn’t be gone long.”  
  


That little shit. Abby likes her more than she’ll admit.  
  


“Thank you, Niylah. I was just helping Marcus with the balm you gave me earlier.” It’s true but somehow it falls out like a lie. A half truth that she can’t bring herself to be concerned about its plausibility. “I can stick around until you get back.”  
  


“Of course.” Her gaze sweeps over him again, no doubt missing nothing about the sweat that’s beading down his neck and the tight grip he has on the rolled bundle of his shirt before back to Abby for a final wicked smile.  
  


The door makes a loud, creaking metal sound when the lock falls in place after she closes it.  
  


“That was close.” Abby turns around to face him again, leaning back against the door with her palms spread against it. The firmness of it carries her weight in nervous relief as she smirks back at Marcus. Her pulse is racing and she knows Marcus’ arousal has nowhere near abated from the brief interruption. “Twice in one day.”  
  


They _both_ know what she’s talking about. Marcus is less amused. His shirt is dropped atop a stack of datapads her desk, knuckles tight on the edge of her desk. Roguish curls stick to his forehead and his pupils are blown wide with desire as he takes her in his sight. “We’re pushing our luck.”  
  


“Does it matter?” She shrugs more confidently than she feels. Every bone in her body feels alive and defiant, wanting for relief and buzzing with waiting. “After engineering….”  
  


It’s that afternoon all over again. The stand off. Him staring at her, his shirt resting on her desk, breath heavy and pants tented around the unabated arousal that’s been waiting for her for hours.  
  


“If everyone knows--” It’s the barest whisper of that promise moaned to the sweet relief as his mouth crashes on hers. Marcus surges forward and this time there’s absolutely no one else there to stop him from devouring her. Her back hits the door hard and his hands haul her legs around his waist, grinding together against the metal frame, all burning clothed friction in their desperation to be near each other.  
  


Everything is a hungry consummation born from a too long denial. His tongue swipes with hers like it’s been dying to for hours. Abby lets her breathy exhales twist with his lips. “Marcus.” Abby breaks as he moves lower, her head falling back against the door when his lips close around a pebbled peak from the hem of her top twisted down by his grasp.  
  


Marcus lets his head fall, feeling like all the oxygen of his body is blowing hot as it escapes, burning the perspiration between her breasts.  
  


A surge of arousal arcs through every bone in her body. Her panties are soaked and she’s aching to have him inside her but Marcus isn’t relenting. He’s swirling his tongue around her nipple while his free hand, the one not focused caressing every inch of skin around the small of her back, toys with the other. God she’s so wound up, more than she could possibly have realized, she could come like this. Just with the hot press of his cock through his canvas pants and his mouth switching attention back and forth, dragging his beard along her skin.  
  


Her hands reach for him, sliding everywhere from tugging mercilessly on his hair when he lands a sharp nip of his teeth on the underside of her breasts to scratching on the bare skin between his shoulder blades. The low rough moan ripped from his throat vibrates on her heated skin and her body starts to shake against him.  
  


She’s too stunned, too overwhelmed to notice until suddenly he’s gone. His lips let go of her breast with a wet, pained gasp and her hands are clutched tightly within his own. His hold is unforgiving. He’s moving and she’s sliding down the long length of his body and his cock drags along exactly where she wants him but there’s too many layers of clothes separating them. Her feet touch the ground but there’s no time for her to stop and search him for answers on what he wants. Hungry palms are sliding beneath her top, pulling it and her thinning bra above her head.  
  


Hands suddenly free and unwilling to wait a second longer, Abby reaches for the fastening of his pants only to find her body spun, turned without asking to face the door before she can touch him, her bare back trapped hotly against his chest and Marcus’ lips buried in her neck. There’s a grip on her wrists that commands an obedience and unlike herself, unlike anything before, she yields it to him. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day. _No touching._ ”  
  


A snap of her jeans, a quick flick of the buttons by purposed fingertips and then he’s there, sliding his hand under the open waistband of her pants and under her panties. Cupping her, spreading her apart with two sure fingers that slide through the wetness smearing itself on his hand. Abby keens and her entire body jerks, breasts thrust forward while Marcus keeps touching and touching her.  
  


“Hands in front, Abby.” He commands. She’ll never be one to blindly follow orders but her body is too desperate for relief to fight back. She grasps the jut of the doorway, the heavy door mere inches in front of her while Marcus is moving everywhere on her, over her, behind her. Kissing his way from shoulder to shoulder, wet, burning like liquid fire jolts down her spine when he kisses it, going straight to where his fingertips are massaging her slick, swollen clit.  
  


“Marcus, please,” The fierce want for him is scorching in its intensity. Every searing nerve is craving relief that he could give her if he would only bend a little. Touch a little more. She needs something, him, his fingers, his mouth or anything more or else she’s going to sob in her need to come. Raw need bristles in her tone. “I’m so _close_.”  
  


Marcus backs away completely and this time, Abby does sob.  
  


Her body bows and her head falls and every timber in her voice is swearing filthy expletives at him until it’s her turn to feel hands tugging at her belt loops, the sticky, slow drag as he peels them just far enough down her thighs. There’s no jerk of cool air against her skin but the fiery pressure waiting to burst and set ablaze inside her.  
  


“Yes,” she starts. A hissing slur of ‘ _yes_ ’ spills into the scorching air as Marcus, having hastily shoved down his own garments in his need to feel her around him, all bare skin and hard muscle, plasters himself against her back. The sweat makes them slick and their want makes them shudder as they crash together, agonizing that this isn’t enough. Marcus can’t wait any longer. Roughly he twists them, a hand around the base of his cock, guiding him, balancing her smaller form in the weight of his strength and then finally he’s there.  
  


“Oh, yes.” She breaks, mouth slack as the thick, heavy weight of him finally pushes inside her. It’s so good, it’s incredible. It’s everything she’s waited all day to have again. The yield of her body to him, the stretch that’s familiar but always so much. The edge of pain that happens when he’s like this, untethered and begging her with his body for release.  
  


 _“Fuck, Abby.”_  


She’s heard him say those exact words so many times now and each instance they rocket straight to her thighs, trembling around where he’s pulsing inside her. A high whimper slips loose when he pulls back and turns to a swallowed moan bitten into her lip as he plunges inside again.  
  


Her legs feel weak, her muscles drawn and ready to collapse when the impetus of his desire drives his hips slapping hard against her ass. The sound is loud and obnoxious and overpowered only by the way neither of them can seem to contain themselves. Heavy bass growls between her shoulder blades, his breath running hot down her spine and sweat pouring between where he’s leaning on top of her. Their bodies are slick and he slides his hands everywhere across her, up and down her breasts again, cupping their heavy weight, twisting hard on a powerful thrust that forces her forward.  
  


 _“Marcus!”_  


**“Abby?”  
**

_No no no no._  


**“Abby?”**  The mystery voice calls out for her.  
  


Not again. This is cruel, she pleads with the universe, swearing and cursing and damning every star from here to the edge of the galaxy.   
  


If anyone comes to her office, they’ll find the door locked.  
  


If anyone tries to peek in and see if she’s there, they’ll see Marcus’ shaggy head bowed over, the curve of his bare shoulder, her breasts jutted forward with each deep push of his cock and the fog on the small glass pane centered just above her head.  
  


She can feel the moment Marcus hears it too. Someone moving around in the MedBay area, soft murmurs of her name as they move through the different sections searching for her. It’s no use. If she’s not there, this is the only other place to find her. This place here, with Marcus’ cock heavy inside her and desperately not wanting to be anywhere else. The pulsing in her core is raging agonizingly hot and she knows Marcus must be feeling the same. God she’s just so close. She’s not even sure her body or his can handle another break, another moment denied from reaching that final point--  
  


Against his code of propriety and against all sense, Abby reaches a hand back to thread into his hair. His curls are twisting against his neck, thick with sweat and soft between her fingers. Her head falls back against his shoulder.  
  


Sweat is falling down his face and his lips are swollen and chewed like he’s been digging his teeth into them for hours. She can’t tell if he’s red because he’s embarrassed at the idea of being caught or if he’s straining not to keep pushing himself inside her over and over. He opens his eyes to look down at her, the sight catching in her throat as his soft brown eyes are smoldered to an earthy, ashen black.  
  


“Don’t you dare stop.” She yanks him down by his hair and hisses into that part his throat her mouth can reach, teeth grazing along his pulse. Marcus shudders with his entire body, his callous fingertips bruising into the slender curve of her waist.  
  


“Abby.” Marcus tries in the same warning tone as earlier, the one that’s begging for any alternative that means he doesn’t have to stop.  
  


“Marcus.” Abby pulls again, harder, twisting her neck for him to see every part of her body stretched out upon him. It undoes him, ripping the words and the moan from his chest even as his hands skim higher to cup the full, welcome weight of her breasts in his palms.  
  


“What if they--”  
  


“I swear, Marcus,” Abby writhes when he pinches the hypersensitive tips, gasping and moaning, clenching every muscle around the full length that’s inside her, his paused movements turning to slow, shallow ruts that mean he can’t quite stop himself either. Ones that mean he doesn’t want to. “I don’t care if the entire bunker is on that side of the door. If you don’t _fuck me—_ ” Her words are cut off by a sound forced from her chest that’s so loud it’s nearly a scream, roaring like the blood pounding in her ears.

Marcus has pulled almost completely out of her and thrusts home with a strength that steals the air from her lungs.  
  


If anyone is still on the other side of that door, they definitely know where to find her now.  
  


It doesn’t matter though because Marcus bends his knees and his arms pull roughly at the bend of her waist, hauling her ass higher to him. Abby gasps at the sensation, the presence of a Marcus only she gets to see. The one who has the power within him to command an army but chooses to lead with peace. Abby is on the tip of her toes, her boots dragging the floor. It’s too late for him to stop, the point passed the moment she swore his name in anger and he drove into her with desire. He’s hot and thick and the tip of his cock is angled just damn right that Abby sees stars every time he pushes back in.  
  


“Yes,” she cries, “yes, yes.” It’s so good and Abby is on fire. Her whole world is burning, toes curling in her boots, every inch of her skin meeting every inch of his, twisted together, warm breath and hot exhales all over each other. She’s been wound up all day and Marcus is twisting his hips in that way which drives him onto that most sensitive part over and over. Too much, too much. “So good,” she hisses. For the second time or the third or she can’t remember how many, a needy hand winds it way into his curls, desperate to keep him close to her.  
  


Marcus grabs it immediately, yanking it away with a growl from him and a yelp from her as her smaller hand is grasped tightly within his larger one, his fingers curling in around her palm.  
  


“ _Dammit Abby_.” Marcus swears her name into the slick nape of her neck.  
  


A hand that yanks hard in her hair at the same time that his thrusts lose their rhythm. Marcus breaks any cadence or control in her with a heady, urgent abandon, the edge of pain twisted with pleasure pulling on her hair forces her entire being completely against him skin to skin and _oh god, yes, finally_. She’s coming. Every muscle in her body goes taut and blinding light flashes. A cry rips from her throat and two hands, both of them back on the door frame, turn knuckle white as she grips the hard edge. Her thighs are shaking and Marcus is moaning her name over and over against her pulse.  
  


She’s dimly aware of the endless murmur of ‘ _yes, yes’_ falling from her lips until a sharp pain lands right where his mouth is pressed against her. Teeth that scrape hard and pull on her send another wave of tremors through her body as she finally feels the dam break for him. Marcus holds her impossibly close to him through it all, hands on her hips, groaning as he gives her everything he has, both of them breathless as they come down.  
  


The world goes grey and her vision goes soft. Marcus seems of the same boneless state as her because he’s leaning forward over her, both of them flat as physically possible against the door. Even though he knows the metal is as warm as the rest of the bunker, it feels miraculously cool against their heated skin.  
  


The small door window is covered in fog somewhere above her head. If anyone had dared to look for her in here, good luck on seeing through it.  
  


“That’s,” Marcus starts and stops, his throat strained and dry amusement grating out. “That’s not a solution to our problem.”  
  


“Mm, I think you’re the only one with a problem.” Abby turns slowly in the trap of his arms around her. She feels decadent and drained and even the sticky mess between her thighs can be overlooked by this post- _incredible_ -sex tranquility she feels.  
  


Abby, lazy and sweaty, pats the spot on his chest right above his heart. Reaching up, they kiss with a lethargic passion, absent of hunger or need but rich with that warm affection spreading through his chest and burning into her. They laugh as they get dressed together, slow kisses along shoulders and arms and foreheads when he tries to offer her bra back to her. Abby shakes her head and Marcus groans about how she’s trying to kill him when she tucks the garment into the pocket of his pants, shrugging it away with a sharp remark about how she’s not putting that thing back on one more time today.  
  


It’s late and everyone who isn’t in the Mess Hall for a late supper will be in their rooms at this point. His shirt bears all the marks of how he balled it up in front of himself and her top stretches loose over her shoulders. They’re not decent but they’re passable when they open the door.  
  


Niylah is in MedBay.

  
Niylah is sitting at the desk closest to the door, the one at the far end of MedBay and the farthest from Abby’s office.  
  


“Oh, you’re here.” She smiles in a passing, casual glance, looking up from her work to take them in briefly before going back to cataloging herbal samples. “Cooper was looking for you, Abby. I told her I thought you went to the Mess Hall with your husband some time ago. Hm.” The young blonde shrugs. “My mistake.”  
  


Marcus is mortified. If she could, Abby would promote her.  
  


“Thank you, Niylah.” She nods her gratitude, “Whatever it is can probably wait until tomorrow.”  
  


“Yes. I thought so. I’m sure you’ll have more time now that the air system has been fixed.”  
  


Marcus stops in his track. Shock hits them both. The air?  
  


“It’s fixed?” He speaks first, unable to hide his surprise or how utterly off guard he is that he didn’t notice it before. Did it feel colder in there? She can’t tell. Abby still has sweat cooling on her skin and under her shirt and dripping down her neck. Her body is still coming down long minutes after violent tremors took hold of her. Everything still feels warm and soft and if it’s any cooler than before, she attributed it to not having another person plastered hotly against her body.  
  


“Oh, yes.” Niylah _won’t_ look at them now. She’s fixed her attention to writing down something in one of the patient profiles with an undue, obsessive diligence. “Almost thirty minutes ago. Jaha said that some of the repairs your team implemented today finally took to the system.” She finally glances up again but her face betrays nothing of the mischievous attitude Abby knows they’re receiving. “Hadn’t you noticed?”  
  


“I—” Marcus starts to stammer through an excuse. Abby spares him with a hand on his arm, gently and silently guiding him with her toward the exit.  
  


“Goodnight Niylah.” She says as they pass her, setting the healing balm on the desk next to the younger woman.  
  


They don’t go to the Mess Hall. The idea of eating isn’t nearly as appealing as their mutual need to collapse into their too-small bed and curl up as the blessedly chilling air wafts over them. They shower first, lazily washing each other down for the second time that day. It’s not technically over-extending their resources if Abby still hasn’t used her second allotted shower and Marcus happens to take advantage of it with her.  
  


It’s all soft touches and languid kisses and swallowing laughter with tender lips while they stand beneath the warm spray.  
  


Marcus draws his finger over a large splotch of red and purple blossoming on her pulse, frowning at it. The sharp sting of pain she felt earlier comes back to her. The edge of his teeth sinking in as he gasped his release against her shoulder and her neck and every part of her he could taste. It stings slightly but not enough for her to move away from his touch, letting him trace it and lastly, to gently touch his lips to his, beard bristling along the edges. She shivers again and it’s lost under the wet stream. “I don’t think you’ll be able to hide that tomorrow.”  
  


Abby pulls his hand away, lacing her fingers with his before drawing him down with the another gentle touch at the nape of his neck. “Why start now?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who was patient with me since I started this before season five started and am finishing it close to the end. Yall are the MVP's. Thanks to everyone for your comments because they really pushed me to get this thing done.


End file.
